


Holding Pattern

by valediction



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, said young adult has questionable success, young adult attempts to figure out what his emotions are doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 01:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valediction/pseuds/valediction
Summary: Comparing past to present brings the changes between the two out in stark relief, like an image and its photo negative. If said changes really were so apparent, though, Ienzo wonders why he didn't notice them more while they were actually happening.Or: Ienzo keeps watch over Even's body while attempting to get work done.





	Holding Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not quite sure how my roughly-biannual tendencies of feeling vaguely indignant over xion turned into this sort of character study, given that the last time i actually dropped into kh fandom was the better part of a decade ago, but hey, turns out being stuck in aircraft and at airports for 15 hours straight is good for something after all! why sleep on a plane or at an extended layover due to aircraft delays when you can scribble in a notebook instead. actually why sleep period  
> (r&r welcomed!)

Even had not woken up.

Aeleus had woken up. Ienzo had woken up. Dilan, too, had awoken after some time, disoriented- true, fatigued to the core- of course, as the three of them all were, but ultimately coherent and cognizant.

Even had not. They had lied to the Flurry of Dancing Flames, then. For what reason, Ienzo wasn't quite sure. Not for the lack of any idea but instead too many to be able to isolate one in particular.

The least of which being that their current footing was unsure. Whether or not Radiant Garden knew the full extent of their betrayal (because everything they'd done had been in Ansem's name), Ienzo held no illusions about their being welcomed back easily. If nothing else, they'd vanished when they'd been needed, leaving Hollow Bastion to suffer from darkness unchecked. As such, now more than ever they needed to present a united front. They needed to appear, if not necessarily strong, then at least in full command of their own newly remade selves.

Even had not woken up. Braig was unaccounted for. Lea had left in pursuit of Isa, had never been one of their group to begin with. Had held no ties to those of them who'd called the decrepit shell of a castle home, once.

In part, Ienzo was unsure if he'd said they were—not _fine_ , 'conscious but unstable'—because he was sure it _would_ be certain truth, given time, or if it was simply the truth he _wanted_ to be. A lie he forced to be truth via cold, logical deduction (and not through deception, of the self or others), because any other truth could not possibly exist. In the end, he didn't truly know. There was no precedent for him to work off of save for the few of them awake. Too small a sample size, really.

It made sense, when it came down to it. The former Guards had a fortitude to them that dwelled in their very natures. Aeleus and Dilan, whether by strength or flexibility, were prepared to, could weather and endure any storm. Perhaps shaken, but unbowed. Ienzo, if not quite socially, had once flourished otherwise under the teachings presented to him what seemed like so long ago.

Even, by contrast, had never been strong, had never been a fighter, had constantly neglected his own health and others from intractable diligence or obsession. From an intransigent need to see everything running properly, under his definition of proper and no other's, which included the continued upkeep and function of the then Radiant Garden, as well as the continued (physical) health of all those responsible for maintaining said upkeep and function, if only for efficiency's sake.

All but his own.

So, Ienzo mused, in some display of nonchalance he could not quite affect as well as Zexion had, it really only followed that if any of their group were to take poorly to reconstitution, it would be Even. Physically, the darkness they'd had to endure and struggle through in their nonexistence after _nonexistence_ would have been taxing on him.

Mentally, he would struggle to reconcile himself with all that the Nobody Vexen had been and done. His self had been so rigidly structured that any fracture of the foundation would shatter it all. Ice did not flow the way wind would, or bend and shift like earth would, or give way as illusions would. It arrayed itself in crystalline structure and under stress either melted or broke.

Even hadn't been a saint by any stretch of the definition. But the man Even had been had _cared_ , despite his incompetence in doing so. It took a strong will, a strong heart, to be able to retain one's form as a Nobody.

And if the heart, principled as it was when freed of darkness, rejected the mind (that rationalized actions in absence of emotion) and body (that performed the very acts it would not accept), then that would be the end of it.

Even would not wake up. The air and silence would remain empty, unfilled, and his scent would remain stagnant, neither alive nor decaying. The body would remain yearning for itself, for a heart, for completion. The heart would lock itself away, and the space left in its absence would become a liability, open to gold eyes and silvered hair and the sweet, cloying scent of dark _dark **dark**_.

—...Ienzo breathed out. His head dropped into a hand, his vision flickering briefly over to the bed before being forced back down to focus on picking up the papers he'd deposited into his lap.

And then...

(Had the bright viridescence of Vexen's eyes been the same shade as Even's? Ienzo wondered.)

And then he would wake up. He would look like Even. He would speak like Even. He would act like Even.

He would not be Even. Even would be gone.

Zexion would have found the loss an inconvenience, if that. He would have been mildly displeased that the academic was no longer a resource available for him to make use of, but little more. In Castle Oblivion he'd been more concerned about the chain of events that had led to the Chilly Academic's demise and how they could avoid the same outcome rather than the demise itself.

Ienzo did not possess the same ease of disregard that had come so readily to his Nobody. Zexion had held Even, and Vexen by extension, in contempt, his only value in the services he could provide. But Zexion, then, drew his impressions and judgments from Ienzo's memories. He could not consider them wholly separate beings when they had both shared the same soul, after all. Ienzo could not denounce his actions as those belonging to another person, not entirely. Perhaps that was the crux of the matter in the end, and the same reason why Even had not awoken.

"... Ridiculous," he said, leaning back in his seat as he collated reports. He didn't look up at Even's form. "Even now, you continue to be troublesome." Ienzo flipped a page, unblinking. "As ever, you are incapable of doing as I want you to."

Ienzo paused, chewing on his lower lip as he tapped the head of the pen he held against his chin. "The Garden is in disarray. The people who left and later came back, or otherwise survived during our absence are working on rebuilding it. You are delaying any progress we could be making in helping to facilitate that.

"I wonder if you would respond better were I to make it a formal order, if only out of spite," said Ienzo. It was only half joking, maybe. Vexen was the one the order would have rankled, bristling indignance and slighted pride and no small amount of spiteful commentary, but Even was more likely to have paused in whatever he was doing and indulged him, either unaware of or uncaring about how patronizing his actions tended to appear when doing so. Setting his pen down, Ienzo brought his other hand up to feel at Even's pulse in a practiced manner.

As had been the case every other time Ienzo performed this ritual, the flutter of Even's pulse was slow. His body remained neither warm (as most humans should be) nor cool (as Even and his Nobody had more tended toward), instead suspended in an uncomfortable in between.

Lips pursed into a thin line, Ienzo collected his papers and stood up to leave. In the doorway, though, he paused, turning only enough to be able to glance back at Even's still form through his uncovered eye.

"... I wonder what you're feeling right now," Ienzo said, quietly. He'd never tried to understand the man, back then. It hadn't been needed, and he hadn't cared to. They'd existed around each other, merely doing as was expected of them. That was the end of things. He'd thought that was the end of things. It had been his understanding of the world back then, that when he'd been taken in it was because of his mind and that he was expected to earn his keep, and that was the reason the elder scientist had always seemed to be hovering nearby.

When he'd woken up in the castle basement, Even's body had been lying prone on the ground next to him. The older scientist's hand had been outstretched toward him. He had come so very close to managing to reach, only to fail in the end.

It'd been his left hand, Ienzo had noted then. It was the same hand that Vexen's shield had once manifested in.

Ienzo's visible eye narrowed. The man Even had been had tried, and he had failed. He had failed, and failed, and failed again. In accordance with the precedent presented, the clear pattern on display, Ienzo supposed that he should have readied himself for yet another disappointment.

... If he thought back, he thought he could remember that moment when the older scientist had rushed downstairs, when Ienzo had stopped to glance back. There had been fear, and panic, and something coming dangerously close to pained in his eyes, then.

"You must be frustrated," he said instead. Ienzo swallowed around the odd blockage he found in his throat before continuing. "All this mess to deal with. The castle is in a state of disrepair. Our research is scattered. It's been difficult, finding anything useful. I have suspicions that Xehanort disposed of anything that may have compromised his plans sometime after we were indisposed. It's also possible that someone else came here and destroyed our notes in hopes of preventing the occurrences detailed in them from happening again. It's inconvenient for us now either way. You being you, I'd assume you have copies tucked away somewhere... I digress."

He was rambling. It seemed a surprisingly easy habit to get lost in, with their hearts returned to them. Ienzo was only glad he hadn't started gesturing alongside. "All things considered, the current state of affairs must be appalling to you. But you can't fix it... any of it unless you wake up, you know. So."

His eyes closed fully. "You've never listened to me, but I have been thinking. I was mistaken in many things, back then. So I will tell you anyways: Wake up. ...Please."

With that, he turned fully and left the room.


End file.
